


Six Impossible Things That Happened To Ginny Weasley Before Breakfast

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Gen, Jossed, Mild Language, Not Quite Gen, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2004.  What is says on the tin.  Ginny's having a weird day, and it's about to get weirder, thanks to Luna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Impossible Things That Happened To Ginny Weasley Before Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSpine (Archon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archon/gifts).



**The First Impossible Thing:**

Ginny slammed her books down on the table, causing the other girls – and the flatware – to jump. “All right,” she said in as reasonable a tone as she could manage, “who turned off my alarm clock this morning?”

The other fifth-year Gryffindor girls looked at one another apprehensively. Ginny smiled sweetly for a few moments longer, then picked up her books and slammed them down again, rattling plates and flagons of pumpkin juice.

“I was supposed to go up to the Astronomy Tower before dawn this morning!” she shouted. “I was supposed to observe Selene’s Comet. It was for extra credit. Which I _need_ ,” she added through clenched teeth.

“Look,” said Reena sharply while she buttered her toast, “we were trying to do you a favor. We know you’ve been having a hard time lately, what with Dean and all, and the Malfoys saying horrible things about your family. You’ve got a match against Ravenclaw this afternoon and excuse me, but we’d all be happy if Gryffindor won this time. You needed sleep.”

“I’m not going to get much sleep if I’m worrying about my grades,” Ginny grumbled, and glared until Reena lowered her gaze.

Isabelle tossed her blond braids and said with some severity, “We _were_ trying to do you a favor. Next time, we won’t.”

“Don’t,” said Ginny. “Please don’t.”

Beth said cautiously, “Can’t you just go tonight or tomorrow morning?”

“I can’t,” said Ginny heavily. “It’s supposed to rain tonight _and_ tomorrow, and then that’s it. Selene’s Comet hasn’t been seen in two hundred years and won’t be seen here again for another…” She rubbed her forehead; suddenly it was throbbing. “I forget how long. Sinistra’s going to _kill_ me. I really needed to do this. Thanks a _lot_ , guys.”

“Have some breakfast, at least,” Beth said, shifting to make room at the table. 

Ginny’s stomach growled at the piles of toast, the baskets of muffins, the fresh fruit, and the rum butter. She shook her head. “I’ve got some pleading to do. And other work.” She grabbed her books and hugged them to her chest.

As she span on her heel she heard Isabelle call over the noise in the Great Hall, “You’d better win this afternoon, or we’ll be third place – behind Slytherin!”

 _Bloody hell_ , thought Ginny. 

 

**The Second Impossible Thing:**

 

Ginny paced the common room. Outside the window it was already sheeting rain.

Ron said, sounding uncomfortable, “Look, Gin, I may be a prefect but I don’t have unlimited power. I can’t just take points from a bloke for that! From my own House!”

“I’m not telling you to take points from him,” Ginny fumed. “I’m telling you to kill him!”

“Well,” said Ron, squirming against the back of his armchair, “technically, I can’t do that either.”

“Technically,” Hermione put in, “Dean didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like you two are still a couple. You broke up two weeks ago—“

“Ten days,” Ginny interrupted heatedly, “is not two weeks. Fourteen days is two weeks. Ten days is—“

“Yes,” Hermione said, the clicking of her knitting needles providing a sort of metronome, “but the thing is, you _broke up_ because you were drifting apart. You didn’t want to be together anymore. This was a mutual decision. You _told_ me you wished him the best.” She pursed her lips and glared pointedly at Ginny, reminding her of Percy.

“I do wish him the best. Although I’m not sure,” she continued in an undertone, “that Parvati Patil is the _best_.”

“She’s pretty,” said Ron. “Padma Patil’s all right, anyway.” Hermione turned her baleful gaze on him. “Which is entirely beside the point,” he added quickly. “And not even true. In fact, why don’t I shut up?”

Ginny laced her fingers in front of her and continued to pace, her robe flapping about her shins. “We _were_ growing apart. I didn’t know he was growing toward _her!_ ”

At that moment the portal entrance slid open, and Neville climbed through. He had obviously been outside; his hair and robes were wet and windblown. “Hello,” he said as he hurried to the fireplace and threw himself into an overstuffed armchair. “I hate this weather. Ginny, you’ll never—“ He broke off and stared at her in obvious dismay. “Oh. You’re already mad.”

“What?” she demanded, halting. “If it’s about Dean and Parvati, I already know. I saw them snogging outside the Charms classroom earlier.”

“It’s not Parvati,” said Neville. “It’s Padma. I just saw them together. By the greenhouse.”

“It’s Parvati,” Ginny insisted, rounding on him, her hands on her hips. “It’s definitely Parvati. She was wearing those stupid bangles…and her Gryffindor tie, besides.”

Neville looked warily from Ron to Hermione, and Ginny’s stomach flopped over and sank. 

“I think I’ll go now,” said Ron, starting to rise.

Ginny’s hands dropped to her sides and curled into fists. “Tell me,” she said flatly to Neville.

The boy bit his lip and, looking decidedly uncomfortable said, “It was definitely Padma by the greenhouse. She had her Ravenclaw tie on. And her prefect’s badge.”

“I hate men,” said Ginny decisively.

 

**The Third Impossible Thing:**

 

The sky was the color of a fresh bruise. Ginny gripped her broomstick and looked up apprehensively from the shelter of the Quidditch lockers. She jumped when a gloved hand touched her shoulder.

“Sorry,” said Harry, grinning sheepishly. His hair clung to his forehead like black seaweed, hiding his scar. 

“M’okay,” said Ginny, shrugging. “Just jumpy.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Sorry about Dean. Ron told me.”

She shrugged again. “It’s not like he was cheating on me. It was just a bit of a shock is all.”

He looked unconvinced, but it was a rather blatant lie, so it didn’t matter. “Hungry, too,” she said. “I missed breakfast. And I’m tired. Even though my idiot so-called friends _forced_ me to sleep in.”

“That’s not good.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t start developing bad habits. Er, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. How’d I explain to Ron…”

His cheeks colored slightly and her mind reeled as the realization thumped into her that he was attempting to flirt. With her. He was going about it so badly that part of her wanted to laugh. Another part of her reminded her – rather hysterically – that she hated men now. 

And Harry was a man. Well, a boy. Becoming a man. Oh, yes, definitely becoming a man. His voice had deepened over the summer, and he had grown at least an inch, and his shoulders had broadened and—

She hated men. She hated men. She hated men.

Harry touched her shoulder again and yesterday it might have meant nothing beyond support for a fellow teammate. A team captain had to support his Chaser. A few minutes earlier, however, he had been attempting to flirt with her so her skin prickled at his touch and her stomach flopped around like a sick bullfrog. 

Across the rain-drenched pitch, Ginny saw, Ravenclaw was emerging from its lockers. Cho Chang stood at the fore, and even from that distance Ginny could see that the other girl was glaring at her. 

_Bloody Hell,_ she thought. 

 

**The Fourth Impossible Thing:**

 

“Look, Ginny,” said Harry. “Everyone has a bad day. It’s not your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault,” Ginny fumed as she stuffed her gear into a locker and slammed the door closed with a resounding _clang!_ She turned to face him, but had a difficult time meeting his gaze. “I let Cho upset me. I let _Dean_ upset me. I let everything upset me. I wasn’t paying attention. If I had been, I’d’ve seen the Bludger, you wouldn’t’ve tried to rescue me, you’d’ve seen the Snitch before she did, and… Hermione’s right. You really _do_ have a saving people thing!”

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of soggy red hair, and knew Ron was trying to slip away undetected. She had an urge to turn and yell at him, though he had done nothing wrong, but she restrained herself. 

“I’ve got to go,” Ginny muttered, once Ron had gone. 

“Ginny,” Harry began, but she pushed passed him and ran out into the rain.

The muddy pitch sucked at her trainers and raindrops pelted her head and shoulders. She was soaked, she was freezing, she was furious with herself for her shoddy performance during the match and for yelling at Harry afterward. 

_You mucked that one up royally. Even if you hadn’t sworn off men, you’ve have lost him right then. You definitely have to become a lesbian now._

She slammed into someone and they both fell down. Ginny landed jarringly on her backside and sat on the muddy path for a moment, stunned. “Sorry,” she muttered when she could speak.

“It’s all right,” a familiar voice said dreamily. “It’s not your fault. Two people can’t be in the exact same place at the same time.”

 _No,_ Ginny thought. _Not Loony Lovegood._

She opened her eyes.

It was Luna Lovegood. The other girl stood over Ginny, her rain-darkened hair clinging to her neck, her wide eyes just a few shades lighter than the gloomy sky. Considering she’d just been knocked over, she was smiling rather serenely. In her hands she clutched a sopping mass of tawny fur. It took Ginny a moment, but she recognized Luna’s lion hat. She thought she’d heard roaring from the stands during the game, but she’d thought it was her imagination or a trick of the wind. Luna wouldn’t cheer for the team that was playing against her own. Would she?

“You played very badly,” Luna informed her solemnly.

Ginny climbed painfully to her feet. “Oh, _thanks_.”

“Everyone has a bad day,” Luna continued. “Morag Awbrey had a bad day once. She was a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies in 1846. She played very badly. Then they found out she had been poisoned by a player on the other team. She didn’t die,” she added thoughtfully.

“I haven’t been poisoned,” Ginny said, staring at the other girl. “I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“Good,” said Luna, and smiled.

“Good…that I haven’t been poisoned or good that I haven’t eaten anything?” Ginny asked warily. Luna’s odd little smile made her scalp tingle, but Ginny ignored that because it made no sense whatsoever.

“Both,” said Luna. “Breakfast really wasn’t that good today. I think the house-elves are going to rebel very soon and we should all be prepared when they do. And I would be very upset if anyone poisoned you.”

“Um,” said Ginny. “Me too.”

 

**The Fifth Impossible Thing:**

 

“That was pitiful, Weasley.”

Halfway up the stairs, Ginny stopped, drew a deep breath, and counted to ten. She let the breath out slowly and, muddy hand still on the banister, turned to face Malfoy.

And Parkinson, she saw with dismay. And Crabbe. And Goyle.

_Bloody Hell._

Malfoy’s thin lips curled in a smug smile. “Very pitiful. But to be expected, I suppose. The day you lot ever amount to anything—“

“Keep talking,” Ginny grated wearily. “Since it’s all _you’re_ good at.”

The boy’s face darkened. “My father will be free soon, and when he is, all you Muggle-lovers will pay. Just wait.”

“I’ve _been_ waiting,” Ginny snapped. “It’s been almost five months. Is this what you mean by soon? And _if_ he ever does get out of Azkaban,” she went on above his hissed protest, “will he really be capable of _anything?_ Even without the Dementors, Azkaban’s a _horrible_ place. He’ll be _insane_ by the time he gets out. _If_ he ever gets out.”

“You Muggle-loving bitch,” Malfoy growled, advancing.

Ginny took a step back.

“She’s afraid,” Pansy Parkinson shrilled. “Slut.”

“Watch what you say to my sister,” barked Ron from the top of the stairs.

Malfoy stopped. Ginny clung weakly to the banister.

“Twenty points from Slytherin,” Ron pronounced. “For harassing another student. One more step and I’ll make it fifty, Malfoy.”

“You’re just covering your arses,” Malfoy spat. “You’re as pathetic as she is, Weasley.”

“Of course we cover each other’s arses,” Ron said patiently, as though the other boy were a child. “That’s what we do. I don’t really want to know what you lot do with _your_ arses. Just go away, all right?”

Malfoy sneered. “That’s it? You’re just going to dock points and run off? You coward.” Pansy’s lips twisted and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

Ron sighed. “What d’you want me to do? Come down and fight you? Like I’d trust you to fight fair.” He tugged at the back of Ginny’s robe. “C’mon.”

Malfoy’s right hand hovered above his pocket, and Ginny thought for a frantic moment that he was going to go for his wand. But then he seemed to recall that any fighting in the corridors could cost Slytherin further, and they were barely ahead of Gryffindor as it was. His hand dropped to his side and with a snort of disdain he pivoted on his heel and stalked off, flanked by the other three.

“C’mon,” Ron said again, still tugging on Ginny’s robe. “Yechh, you’re filthy. What did you do, fall in the mud?”

“Yeah,” Ginny breathed. It took some effort, but she peeled her fingers from the banister. She turned and looked up at her brother. He was watching her worriedly. “I’m all right,” she said. “Really.”

“Really?” he said doubtfully, raising his eyebrows.

“No, not really,” Ginny admitted, swiping at a wayward lock of hair and only succeeding in smearing her forehead with mud. She frowned ruefully. 

A corner of Ron’s mouth twitched. Then, unexpectedly, he held out his arms. 

For all their closeness, the Weasleys were not a physically demonstrative family. Ginny wavered.

Ron grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up the stairs and into a tight, muddy hug.

 

 **The Sixth Impossible Thing:**

It rained all afternoon and into the evening. The chances that it would let up before the next day were pitifully slim, but Ginny went up to the Astronomy Tower anyway. Five ridiculous, impossible things had already happened today. Why not one more?

She sat cross-legged on a spread-out blanket under a huge umbrella, her notes and measuring implements strewn about her. She had a small bottle of blue flame and another blanket to keep her warm. She had taken a shower, but she did not feel very refreshed. She still had not eaten anything. She had thought about stopping by the Great Hall on her way up, but she had not been ready to face all the Gryffindors _and_ the Ravenclaws _and_ the Slytherins at once.

 _Maybe I’ll join Hufflepuff,_ she thought fancifully. No one ever switched Houses, but perhaps if she complained loudly enough Dumbledore would make an exception. She doubted most of Gryffindor would be sorry to see her go.

 _You’re just having a bad day,_ she chided herself. _Morag Awbrey had a bad day back in 1846, but she didn’t die. I wonder if she spent the rest of her life under her bed or if she led the Harpies to victory at the next World Cup. I should’ve asked Loony._

Despite herself, she smiled.

The sky, which had been a dull pewter when she had first arrived, was darkening rapidly. Soon it would be black. She was not going to see Selene’s Comet tonight. Tomorrow she would go to Professor Sinistra and beg her for an alternate extra credit project. Maybe she would sleep late. Unless her roommates, made wary by this morning’s error, decided to wake her early.

The sky was nearly black when Ginny heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the observation deck. The footsteps were light; they probably belonged to a girl.

 _Good,_ though Ginny. _Because I hate men. Except Ron, sometimes._

It was Luna. 

She flopped to her knees beside Ginny, without asking if she could share her blanket and umbrella. “I brought you something from the kitchens,” she said, holding up a plate of scones. They smelled fresh and when Ginny touched one she discovered that they were still hot. Starving and grateful beyond words, Ginny broke off a piece and crammed it into her mouth.

“They’re not poisoned,” Luna assured her blithely, though Ginny would hardly have cared if they were. “I made sure. The house-elves _are_ planning a revolution,” she went on in a whisper. “They’re hiding it, but I know. I’m quite sure I saw a flag.”

Ginny swallowed and reached for another scone. 

“I found something else that will help you,” Luna said. She set the plate of scones on the blanket, and reached into her robe. She withdrew a small thing that dangled from a chain and gleamed gold in the firelight.

Ginny peered. It looked like a tiny hourglass.

“It’s a Time-Turner,” Luna informed her. 

“’Ow did ‘ou ‘et un?” Ginny demanded around a mouthful of scone. “I ‘ought—“

“Well,” said Luna, looping the chain around their necks, “I was in that room where we used to have our DA meetings, and I kept thinking ‘How I wish I had something that would help Ginevra!’ And then I found this in my pocket.”

Ginny swallowed her second scone and licked her fingers clean. “And it exists outside that room? But that’s not—“

“Of course not,” Luna agreed. “But it is.”

“Oh,” said Ginny, dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“So, we’re going to go back in time so you can observe your comet.”

“Um,” said Ginny. “Back to this morning, you mean? Are you sure it’s safe? I mean, there’ll be people there this morning. I wasn’t the only one doing the project. And they’ll know I’m not there. I mean.” She frowned, closed her eyes, and tried to concentrate. “I mean I _didn’t_ go. I wasn’t _there_. People knew I wasn’t there. They’d have said something if I was when I—“

“Oh no,” Luna said, and Ginny just knew she was smiling serenely. “No, we can’t go back to this morning. Everyone knows you weren’t there. If you had gone, people would know and we would know, too. No, we’re going to go back to 1796, to the day the comet was first seen.”

Ginny’s eyes flew open. Yes, Luna looked perfectly serene. She was serious. “But—“

“Because you see,” Luna went on, her eyes shining in the blue light like mother-of-pearl, “I think we’re supposed to discover the comet together.”

“No,” Ginny insisted, her mind spinning. Luna was mad. “No. For one thing, we’d know if we were the ones who discovered the comet. For another, that was two hundred years ago! For another – no.”

“But,” said Luna, “the discovery of Selene’s Comet is very mysterious. It was first seen at dawn two hundred years ago, and people only know about it because the people who saw it left notes behind, on this very tower. It’s true. _The Quibbler_ did an article about it last month, so you know it’s true. The comet was only seen once. How would anyone know it was going to appear again two hundred years later if we didn't go back and tell them? Besides,” she added and tipped her head to one side so that her long blond hair fell down over one shoulder like a waterfall, “my mother’s name was Selene.”

“Impossible,” Ginny breathed.

Luna shook her head, tossing her hair around. Then she slipped closer to Ginny and leaned against her. “Please,” she said softly. “There’s no one I’d rather discover a comet with. And I _would_ like to name something after my mother.”

Luna’s head on her shoulder was nice, Ginny thought. She _did_ hate men. She had not quite decided what she thought about girls. But while Luna was definitely a girl, it seemed to Ginny that she was something else as well. Something mythical, maybe. Or mystical. Something better than ordinary, anyway.

As for what she was suggesting, it was—

It was just possible.

11/20/04


End file.
